Babysitting Blues
by lolo popoki
Summary: Hiko meets Kenji for the first time. Humorfic, Round robin story between lolo popoki, SiriusFan13, sueb262, and Warg.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** We the people, of the United Fandom of Rurouni Kenshin, in order to form a more appealing diversion, establish our opinions, insure intercontinental amusement, promote your general interest, and ensure that this fandom will never die, do ordain and establish this fanfic for the entertainment of all.

And just so it is out in the open, no, we do not own Rurouni Kenshin or any of its characters (nor the preamble to the U.S. Constitution, for that matter...). :P

**A/N:** Hello! This is a just-for-fun experiment of sorts... an RK round-robin story! For anyone unfamiliar with the term, a round-robin is a type of collaborative fiction or storytelling in which a number of authors each write chapters of a novel or pieces of a story, in rounds. The idea for this fic was born between SiriusFan13 and me on a boring car ride during my vacation, and is based off a cute picture of Hiko being harassed by little Kenji that I came across on some Japanese website. There will be four of us working on this fic, and our chapters will be posted in this (tentative) order: me (lolo popoki), SiriusFan13, sueb262, Warg, and then back around until completion. All chapters will be posted here on my account and will have the author's name in parentheses next to the chapter heading. I have no idea how long the story might be... it all depends on how much we want to torture the characters. :P It will be interesting to see what we all come up with. Hopefully, you will enjoy our efforts!

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**Babysitting Blues**

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Chapter One: (written by lolo popoki)

It was with a mixture of resignation and anticipation that Hiko Seijuro, thirteenth master of the Hiten Mitsurugi, greeted the new day. Stretching languidly, he kicked the blanket off and sat up, a rare smile gracing his ageless face.

His baka deshi was arriving in Kyoto today.

Two years had passed since Kenshin had last visited. Two years had passed without so much as a single letter. Then, out of the blue, a message had come from Tokyo informing him that his errant pupil and the rest of the motley crew would be in Kyoto on vacation this week. He was glad for the advance warning; Kenshin had the vexing habit of taking long absences, and then popping up when least expected. Hiko _hated_ being surprised.

However, though Hiko would stubbornly deny it to his last breath, he really was looking forward to seeing the little idiot again.

He smiled again, and with a final stretch, he rose to start breakfast. Waiting for the rice water to boil, he quickly dressed and brushed out his long dark hair. He scowled peevishly at the few strands of silver now running through the black. Rounding 50, Hiko Seijuro was still a stunning specimen: handsome, powerfully built, with the youthful features that a 30-year-old would kill for. As minor as they may be, it was the little things he noticed recently that pricked at his vanity and reminded him that he was no longer as young as he once was. The Hiten master generally refused to acknowledge the fact that his age was beginning to creep up on him.

Hiko sighed and then smirked slightly, taking some comfort in knowing he could still beat the pants off his younger apprentice.

Pulling his hair back in its customary ponytail, he went to check the rice.

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Two days later, Hiko was glaring down the trail. He hadn't expected Kenshin to pop right on over from the train, but two days was a bit much. Couldn't that little twit have found some time between then and now?

With an annoyed huff, Hiko turned back inside and pulled out the letter he had gotten, double-checking to make sure he had the right dates.

It had been polite, soft-spoken Omasu who had delivered the letter to him, much to his relief. Misao, with her usual dizzying barrage of senseless, annoying chatter, could try the patience of Buddha himself. Hiko, when forced to deal with the hyper kunoichi, often had the overwhelming urge to _Ku Zu Ryu Sen_ her impudent ass right off his mountain. He fervently hoped that Kenshin had the common sense to leave her and the spiky haired brat behind at the Aoiya when he finally did decide to show up. The pair's incessant bickering never failed to give him a headache.

Skimming over the atrocious handwriting, his mouth tightened. The dates were correct. The baka was just late.

Grumbling under his breath, he poured himself a small amount of his beverage of choice. Pensively staring into the clear, smooth liquid, he wondered what was taking the moron so long. His annoyance faded into concern. Could there have been an accident? Illness? An old enemy from the past once again surfacing to wreak havoc and destroy the fragile peace that his deshi had struggled to maintain?

Hiko's gaze suddenly snapped towards the door, sensing the familiar presence making way slowly up the path. The relief he felt was short-lived; the irritation at having been kept waiting simmered back to the surface. He gulped the sake down, threw aside the curtain, and stepped outside, fully prepared to give his student a solid tongue-lashing.

The angry words died on his lips as he took in Kenshin's rather wild-eyed, disheveled appearance, and the small, grinning, red-haired child clutched in his arms.

For a moment, all he could do was stand, staring at the miniature replica of his baka deshi. He hastily hid his shock before his preoccupied pupil could notice, and studied the matched pair with narrowed eyes. It was obvious that they were father and son; the resemblance was almost uncanny. But why the hell hadn't anyone ever told him that his Kenshin had become a father? Resentment at being kept in the dark warred briefly with paternal pride.

Resentment won out. Hiko planted his hands on his hips and glowered ominously at the younger swordsman.

"A son, eh?" he said flatly. "Didn't any of you idiots think to let me know?" His voice took on a sarcastic edge. "Was I not _worthy_ enough to be let in on the news?"

Kenshin winced and adjusted his grip on the now squirming boy. "Shishou, I..."

"No, no." The master waved his hand dismissively. "I see exactly where I stand here; my importance in your life has always been minimal at best."

"Shishou, no!"

"I suppose I should consider myself lucky you even remembered to invite me to the wedding." Hiko gave a long suffering sigh, taking perverse satisfaction in his student's stricken expression.

"Shishou, I'm sorry! I really am! I meant to keep in touch, but things... just... happened."

"'Things just happened,'" Hiko repeated, raising a finely arched brow. He smirked, eyeing the small red-headed child. "They certainly did... This kid's, what? Two? You and Kaoru must have gotten busy immediately after the wedding."

Kenshin flushed under his master's knowing leer. "That's really not..." he muttered self-consciously, then bit back a pained yelp as childish fingers grabbed painfully at his hair. "Kenji, stop! No pulling!"

Kenji's response was a high pitched shriek right into his father's ear, causing both men to flinch.

"So, a son," Hiko murmured dryly, rubbing his ear. "I'm wondering whether to congratulate you, or offer my condolences."

With a short weary laugh, the younger swordsman began trying to pry his hair loose from the boy's stubborn grip. "At the moment, I'm not sure which is appropriate either."

Noting the dark circles under his deshi's eyes, and the frazzled state of his ki, Hiko felt a twinge of sympathy. He knew that look. He'd been there himself, years before. Though, he wasn't quite sure which might be considered worse... a hyper-kinetic two-year-old, or a nine-year-old former slave suffering from post-traumatic shock.

Sighing, he motioned for them to follow him back inside the cabin. Retrieving his sake, he casually leaned against his work-bench and poured himself another drink. With a warning look and a stern admonition to behave, Kenshin settled himself on a nearby cushion and set his son beside him, fretfully straightening the boy's clothing and hair.

After watching his student's nervous fussing for several minutes, Hiko grew impatient. "Well, baka," he snorted, cocking his head to one side. "Are you going to introduce the little runt, or not?"

"Oro?" Kenshin gave a slight start, turning his attention towards his teacher. "Sorry! Shishou, this is Himura Kenji, my son." Hesitating briefly, he turned to the boy and continued. "Kenji, this is Hiko Seijuro the thirteenth, the man who raised me. Say 'hello,' will you?" His expression was apprehensive; he wanted so badly for the two to get along.

With keen interest, Kenji studied the huge man. After a moment's careful scrutiny, he broke out in a wide cheerful grin, chirped out something that sounded vaguely like "ohayo," and then launched into a lively round of incomprehensible babble that left Hiko bemusedly shaking his head.

Apparently, the Hiten Mitsurugi master had passed inspection.

Kenshin sagged slightly in relief. "Ah, good... he likes you."

"Naturally," Hiko sniffed. "What's not to like?"

His apprentice chuckled softly. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Baka," the older man grumbled, leaning forward to deliver a good-natured swat to his deshi's head.

A delighted Kenji, obviously figuring the smack to be an invitation to a game, jumped onto his father's back and began slapping at the man's head, squealing gleefully. "Baka, baka, baka!"

"Ow! Kenji!" Kenshin squawked, ducking away from the childish blows. "Stop, please!"

Hiko snorted, and then plucked the high-strung wild-child off his father by the back of his shirt. Dangling the giggling boy so they were face-to-face, he raised an amused eyebrow. "You are one crazy brat, you know that?"

"Oro..." Kenshin whimpered from down below, laid flat out and swirly-eyed.

The master swordsman nudged Kenshin with his foot, muttering, "_This_ was the most dangerous man of the revolution?" He shook his head.

Kenji laughed, still squirming in the large man's grip. "Baka!" the toddler announced, pointing at the prone form of his father. "Baka!"

"Smart kid," Hiko smirked. He could like this Kenji...

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**A/N: **Damn... Took me about 3 months to finish this chapter; it was supposed to be posted in early July! Lots of things going on though, including health problems, moving to a new house, trying to get settled in, and some major car troubles that set me back about 800 bucks. My poor car... Also, I seem to have developed a web-comic addiction that's been eating up all my spare time... I blame you, Sam:P

Anyway, I hope you liked how this first chapter came out... I'm not satisfied, but that's hardly a surprise. Next up: **SiriusFan13**:D

**Glossary of terms: **

baka – idiot

deshi – apprentice

Shishou – master

kunoichi – female ninja

Ku Zu Ryu Sen – "9 Headed Dragon Flash" - Attack learned before the most powerful succession technique. Strikes with the sword nine times on the 9 vital points, head, right leg, left leg, right arm, left arm, between the legs, the chest, right shoulder, and left shoulder, making this move virtually impossible to block.

ohayo – casual form of good morning

oro – Kenshin's little trademark noise of surprise, dismay, or typical cluelessness. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Well, here it is... the second chapter, written by the awesome SiriusFan13! Enjoy :D

**Chapter 2—by: SiriusFan13**

Hiko turned away from his swirly-eyed baka deshi to closely observe the squirming bundle of energy that he held in his hand. This child—this… Kenji… was a spitting image of the young Shinta. Only Kenji's eyes were as blue as the midnight sky.

And unlike the traumatized slave boy, this kid wouldn't shut up.

"Baka! Baka! Baka! Baka! Baka!" the child was happily babbling.

Meanwhile, Kenshin was slowly picking himself off of the floor. He stood, brushing his hakama off, and carefully kept just enough distance between his hair and his son's hands to be safe. "Oro…" he murmured, his voice a bit unsteady. "Kenji's stronger than he looks, that he most certainly is…"

Hiko snorted, dangling the boy in front of Kenshin, and enjoying the way the redhead flinched each time Kenji reached for his hair. "I would hope so, baka," he said lightly, after a few moments of amusement. "He should be strong. Look at his parents."

Kenshin's lavender eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open at this unexpected compliment, only to snap shut again as his shishou continued. "Well… _you_ aren't much. But the tanuki, I'm sure, has lent him a fair share of her strength and cunning."

Kenshin's eyes narrowed, and his eyebrow twitched slightly. Taking a deep breath, he changed the subject, his voice tight. "Shishou… I purchased some sake for you. To… celebrate."

Hiko's dark eyes lit up, and he almost smiled, seeming to forget he was holding a squirming, giggling two-year-old. His hungry eyes traced his deshi's form, almost disturbingly, if one didn't know better, looking for some place… some telltale bulge… that would betray the location of his liquid gold gift. There really weren't many places for the sake to be stored. And honestly, for a man of Kenshin's caliber, there really weren't as many bulges as one would have expected _without_ the sake jug.

The almost predatory glint in Hiko's eyes grew dangerous as realization slowly settled in. "Well, where is it, baka?" the older man growled, feeling had.

"Baka! Baka! Baka!" Kenji crowed again, his shrieks causing even Hiko to wince a little. The hulking swordsman attempted to ignore it, glaring at Kenshin until the ex-hitokiri began shifting his weight uneasily from one foot to the other.

Kenshin nervously cleared his throat, starting to regret having even mentioned it. This entire situation was not going as he'd planned. "Oro… I—ah… left it back at the Aoi-ya. It's a rather large jug, Shishou, and I would have dropped it if I had tried to carry both the sake _and_ Kenji.**"**

"Baka! Baka…?" The boy was still babbling, but even at his young age, he seemed to be able to feel the dangerous ki in the air. Hishigh voice was growing uncertain, and was taking on a dangerously shaky quality, which Kenshin immediately recognized. Hiko, unfortunately, had been away from children for too long, and did not. He ignored the child in his hand, simply tightening his grip on the boy's shirt. "You should have left the brat home then, baka…"

"Baka!"

"But Shishou, Kaoru is out shopping with Misao. There was no one to watch Kenji." He paused before continuing hesitantly. "I can run back and get it. It'll only take an hour… if you could just watch Kenji, I—"

Hiko raised a brow. "No."

"But Shishou…"

"No."

The rurouni opened his mouth, ready to beg, when a different tactic came to mind. Slowly, Kenshin nodded. "You're right, Shishou. You've already had enough trouble dealing with me…"

"Damn right."

"And look how _I_ turned out… Kenji doesn't need that."

Hiko's eyebrow twitched. "Excuse me?"

Kenshin continued, apparently nonplussed. "Kenji is still innocent. I would like to keep him that way, that I would." He reached for his son.

Hiko yanked the surprised child out of Kenshin's reach.

Kenji blinked, startled at the sudden movement. "Baka?"

No one heard the boy. Hiko was too busy fuming. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you're trying to imply that _your_ social problems are _my_ fault…" The look in his eyes could have crumbled Mount Fuji.

Kenshin didn't react, responding simply. "I was raised by an anti-social, pompous, overbearing, bloodstained, cranky bachelor with a nasty sense of humor and no social skills, who made my decisions for me, all the while ridiculing everything I tried to do for myself." He stared back at his shishou as innocently as he could manage, finishing with a sharp taste of Hiko's own sarcasm. "Why would _you_ have anything to do with my becoming a self-imposed wanderer after years of killing?"

"Get the sake, baka." Hiko's voice was deadly. "I'll watch the kid."

"But, Shishou—"

"GO!" The man bristled, and seemed to grow even larger in his anger, if that were possible.

Kenshin bowed hastily. "Hai. Gomen, Shishou."

Before Hiko had time to change his mind, or even realize what had happened, the rurouni was gone, barely managing to hide his laughter.

"Baka…?" The faltering word came tentatively from the now uncomfortable child, still clutched in Hiko's tight grasp. Unused to being ignored, Kenji began to cry, reminding the hulking man, _finally_, exactly what he had just argued for.

"_Kuso_!" he snarled, his emotions running between anger and embarrassment at being successfully tricked by his deshi.

"Kuso!" the child crowed, enthralled by this new, interesting, emphatic word.

Hiko choked back a variety of other colorful phrases that would undoubtedly have been parroted by the precocious child, as he imagined the enraged combined reactions of the volatile tanuki and her idiotic, effeminate, and unstable husband when they heard their son's new vocabulary.

This was not good.

"Kuso!" the child chirped again.

Hiko finally set Kenji down. "You said it," he muttered, trying to ignore the dark sense of dread creeping up on him. This wasn't going to be pretty.

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__Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Please review. Up next is Sueb262, writing Chapter 3 of "Babysitting Blues" ! You won't want to miss it! (Oh god… I somehow became the English dub, heaven help me!)_

_Dewa mata!_

_Sirius_


	3. Chapter 3

I'll pass on SiriusFan13's responses to the previous chapter soon. Things have been rather hectic recently. Anyway, now it's time for sueb262! She did a wonderful job :D Warg's chapter will be coming up next, so keep an eye out!

_(edit: chapter reposted with a few alterations)_

**Babysitting Blues**

**Chapter 3 – A Ridiculous Situation  
****by sueb262**

The day was fine: impossibly fluffy white clouds glided across startlingly blue skies, birds twittered to each other through the forest, and the mist from the fall freshened the air and braced the skin—it was a scene out of an ancient, romantic tale.

Such a fine day that any traveler would have found it irresistible to pause and soak it in, perhaps to stop for a bite to eat, to dangle dry, dusty feet in the river, to cool off in the dappled shade of the clearing. In short, a delightful and welcome break in a tiring journey.

Delightful and welcome until, that is, noticing the figure standing stock still at the edge of the clearing, right at the head of the trail leading back down to the city.

Massive and forbidding, the morning sun shedding down muscled shoulders and glinting off a fall of gleaming black hair, the thirteenth master radiated a seething, menacing mood: shock and dismay and, to a close observer, even defeat—a most dangerous combination. Preoccupied with glaring down the path along which his deshi had fled only moments before, he seemed not to notice the small creature at his feet.

Upon being plunked down from the great height of Hiko's arms, Kenji at first sat blinking up in the direction of his new caretaker's face, then quickly grew bored, and began to explore his immediate surroundings. He plucked at the small summer flowers between his feet, and tossed them up, cooing delightedly as they wafted back to the earth. Pushing up off the ground, rear end first, he teetered for a moment upright, outstretched arms flapping for balance, then steadied himself. He toddled around the trunk-like legs for a few turns, clutching sporadically at the man's trousers, and then caught sight of something really interesting: a small cabin—small enough to seem like an inviting playhouse to the tot—and, just beyond that, a woodpile!

Kenji had fond memories of woodpiles. This last winter, his father had deemed him old enough to indoctrinate into The Game, and the two of them had spent many happy, soggy, freezing afternoons peek-a-booing and hide-and-go-seeking around, through, and under the snowy logs, much to the consternation and disapproval of his mother. These sessions usually ended with Kenji pounding, shrieking, into the warm kitchen of the dojo, his father close in his heels, where he'd find Kaoru frowning and sweating and swearing under her breath, abusing some unfortunate food items, but all too ready to leave that and rush to the rescue of her son. Kenji always enjoyed immensely the ensuing dialog between his parents; he usually got a steaming cup of sweetened tea and a decorated rice ball out of the bargain.

So it was with gleeful anticipation that he made his tottering way across the open space and around the back of the cabin.

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He hated to admit it, but the words of his deshi had stung, and stung hard: "Look how I turned out."

What call had there been for that kind of talk? He'd tried his level best with the boy, and damn if he didn't think he'd done pretty well! Was it his fault the youngster had abandoned his studies and chosen a path into hell? After all, look what he'd had to work with at the beginning: a child, small for his age and in poor physical condition, traumatized almost beyond the ability to breathe, nights broken by tremors and tears, and waking hours spent hiding and cowering. Most nights, it took several tries before the boy successfully passed through the waking to sleep transition, with its sudden nightmarish hallucinations that would startle him (and his frazzled guardian) into howling, wide-awake panic, leaving both of them exhausted and panting. And then there was no easy way to comfort the boy back onto his futon: in his half-awake, half-asleep state, he couldn't distinguish Hiko from the monsters in his dreams, and wouldn't be touched, much less held and rocked, but stood whimpering against the wall or in a corner, stiff and trembling, sightless eyes staring blankly.

Hiko sighed himself out of his reverie and turned his back on the path. _Oh, well, it should only be an hour or so, right? What could possibly go wrong?_

A thunderous crash split the quiet. It seemed to roll on and on, and involved an alarming cacophony, the sound of splintering wood and the thudding of heavy objects against the ground echoed off the mountainside.

With all the speed of his life's training, he flashed to the source of the sound. Barreling around the corner of the cabin, he skidded to a halt at the sight that met his eyes: his woodpile was in ruins, logs lying every which way, several of them still on their way down the slope toward the river; he realized at once he'd be dragging them back for hours, sodden and slippery and useless for days. The pile had unfortunately collapsed most heavily at the end nearest the kindling box, and had not only crushed the box itself, but had smashed most of the kindling inside.

Hiko swore colorfully, but this time under his breath: he'd learned his lesson just moments before, and images of an enraged mother bearing down on him with a wicked shinai sent a small shiver up his spine. In his amazed fury, he looked around for what he knew must have been the trigger: _Where is that kid?_

And almost immediately, his heart caught with the real meaning of the question. _By the furies, where __is__ Kenji?!?_

The tot was nowhere in sight, and he was gripped by the kind of cold fear he'd been introduced to two decades previously, but hadn't experienced in several years. Once, Kenshin had tumbled off a similar woodpile himself, and Hiko's parental memory flashed unwillingly on the angry purple bruises and vicious scrapes that he'd had to nurse for days.

"Kenji! Where are you?"

Frantically, he began to paw through the disorganized mess, rising panic empowering his motions as he threw logs helter-skelter behind him.

"Boy! Come out to me immediately!"

A cold sweat broke out on his brow—he'd reached the ground and still no Kenji.

"Kenji-i-i-i!" The man's bellow seemed to shake the very limbs of the forest, and he stood panting raggedly. Then, between gasping breaths, a small whimper behind him caught his attention. He spun on his heel and came face to face with a very frightened little face.

At first, he couldn't fathom what was wrong with the picture, why the tiny face was actually "face to face" with him. Irrationally, he had the ridiculous thought that the kid had grown very quickly indeed. Then the world clicked back into place.

It was the gentle swaying of the flushed little face that tipped him off. Reaching up to grab the back of the miniature collar, he unhooked it from the ragged edge of a cracked wooden roof beam, where it had snagged when the little boy had tried to scramble from the top of the woodpile onto the roof itself and had thereby escaped the avalanche as his final push-off had destabilized the first log.

Man and boy locked gazes for a long moment, one set of eyes filled with relief and growing fury, the other filled with relief and the dawning realization of terror. Kenji, who had nearly stopped breathing with the shock first of the cataclysmic event, then of the roars of his custodian, drew in a long ragged breath, held it as his emotions gathered steam, and exploded into a single, earsplitting wail that dissolved into great wracking sobs, his little body, still suspended from the man's fist, jerking and spasming with the effort.

Hiko held the boy at arm's length, amazed at the power in the tiny lungs, his ears ringing with the echoing screams.

He checked the sun's level. Ten minutes had passed since Kenshin's departure.

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At the foot of the mountain, the boy's father paused and kneeled over the cold river to scoop up a refreshing mouthful of the cold water and stretch his back from the steep descent.

_They'll probably be fine—no need to hurry back right away, and I might even have time to find a new mirror for Kaoru to replace the one Kenji broke last week._

He smiled at the thought that his master and his son might form a bond if left alone to get to know each other, and congratulated himself on how smoothly the situation had been set up. He rose and headed toward town with a lighter step.


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